


Aftermath (or Be Our Guest)

by theechosea



Series: Starling Clarity [6]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Angst, Book 3: Mockingjay, Brainwashing, Choking, Dismemberment, Electrocution, Hijacked Peeta, Hijacking, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Interviews, Medical Torture, POV Peeta Mellark, Peeta goes a tad bit insane, So much angst, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theechosea/pseuds/theechosea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to Peeta after Catching Fire ends? How cosy are things in The Capitol? Not very...though at least for some of it he and Johanna have each other to talk to, and he can talk to Caesar, and there's the ever lovely President Snow. Isn't that great? Are you too upset to go on?<br/>Prepare to discover the fate of the Avoxes, some of what happened in the arena, snippets of things, or are those what really happened? because memory is weird and malleable and pliable, especially when tracker jacker poison is involved.<br/>My muse is sick sometimes, so I have to apologize for it. So, yes here there be TORTURE. You have been warned.<br/>Endeavoring to be canon compliant -- as much as it can. More based on books than movies -- though I imagine some movie things will worm there way in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Someone slams into me knocking me into a tree.  
Chaff. Haymitch's drunk friend from the parade. District 11. Rue's district. He greeted all three of us with sloppy signs of affection.  
I was in danger of losing my head to Brutus, so it's appreciated. I wasn't thinking clearly.  
Brutus throws Chaff backwards as easily as I might toss a huge sack of flour and his hand flies towards me. He lost it in his games, like I lost my leg, and he had a weapon fashioned to wear there, which Brutus has disarmed.  
Chaff barrels towards Brutus though slamming him down.  
I pick it up the hand, and carefully move around. I remember Katniss' lessons on quiet, after my horrible performance in the last arena. It's tricky to be quiet with this leg but I can time it's steps to the thumps of their fight, and get out of the way and keep hoping that Chaff will come out on top. I'm level with their backs when there's that sickening wet squelch I've heard before, the heavy final hit--death blow, and I have to look. I have to see because I've not made it far enough should have just legged it.  
Chaff is falling to the ground.  
In that instant all I can see is red.  
I launch myself at Brutus, slamming into his side, knocking him down, weapon raised and mash it into his head. It's a solid hit. There's that same wet squelch. If only we were a butcher's shop and not a baker's I'd be more used to it, I suppose.  
You've got to make sure. Haymitch's voice reminds me. If you actually go for a kill by hand. You have to make sure.  
I keep my full weight down on him ignoring the scrabbles and twitches of his hands towards me and rip the blade out of his head tearing it away from us both and jam it in again and again until the movement stops and then once more.  
You've got to make sure.  
It hurts to breathe.  
The lightning has to be hitting soon.  
I have to find Katniss.  
I wipe my hands on Chaff's legs given my own uniform is too splattered to properly clean them off then I pick up Brutus' weapon. At one time it was a spear, but somewhere in the course of the games it was broken so it's a half the length now, but more effective than Chaff's hand for sure, and the hand ax I had which Chaff had taken when he knocked me over. You must maintain your weapon.  
I am covered in blood.  
I need to find the trail of wire, and hopefully Enobaria doesn't track me down in the mean time because I don't think I can be that lucky twice, and those teeth of hers. My throat would be ripped out before I could blink.  
That noise...the lightning is starting.  
Screw pretense.  
"Katniss!" 

The sky explodes.


	2. Waking

My name is Peeta Mellark. I come from District 12.  
Because of Katniss I survived the Hunger Games; because of Katniss I'm alive.  
Remember who the real enemy is. The real enemy is the Capitol.  
The real enemy is President Snow. 

-+-+-+-

"Peeta, you had us worried," I can't place the voice, or the hand that's holding mine tight with concern. It feels so warm.  
It's so bright in here. It's probably deliberate, bright white, disorienting. Light in my eyes. It goes away.  
"Peeta?"  
"I'm not..."  
"We got you out--we just managed it. The--the arena..." there's a pause. She confers, urgently, quietly with someone beside her, "a terrible thing happened I can say that, right?"  
"Katniss?" I ask.  
"She's not here. We rescued Johanna though, and Enobaria."  
I know that. I knew that.  
They separated us.  
It was a trick.  
I want. I want to sit up. Have I lost any more body parts? I start to move but I'm tied down. I struggle against it.  
"Now, now," someone else comes over, "be careful--take it easy. Let's not rupture anything."  
"Where am I?"  
"You're safe. This is a Capitol hospital. The--the rebels Beetee, and Finnick and Katniss--they fled."  
"No." I shake my head, "That's not--" I try to get out again, but then everything is warm spreading from my left arm through my body and then...


	3. Mr Purple & Blue

They've let me sit up to eat. I'm in a very small room, by myself. I'm attached to the bed by my one remaining ankle, and they've removed my prosthetic. I've no idea where it is. I'm also attached to the bed by something around my neck so there's little chance of movement and there are chains on my wrists so that even though I can feed myself I can't move very far. The eating utensil is soft and flimsy. It can barely hold the weight of the soup.  
There is an Avox standing by the door watching me sadly and a guard on the opposite side. Another Avox stands by the window nearby.  
I'm not sure how long it's been.  
I think I remember at least four times of waking up and going through the conversation of the arena having been destroyed and the rebels being Katniss or having taken Katniss and the Capitol having graciously rescued me, Johanna and Enobaria, though I haven't seen either of them. I thought I may have heard Enobaria growling at someone but I could have just been dreaming.  
The door opens suddenly and I fail at not jumping in shock, what was on my spoon spills on to the table. The Avox by the window quickly mops it up and then seeing the man whisks the spoon and bowl away along with the table and the other Avox also rushes out. The guard walks into the room and stands on this side of the door. For a moment I think I see President Snow standing outside.  
The man is wearing deep purple, with a blue collar it's striking compared to all the pale muted colors I've been seeing recently.  
"Peeta," he says, graciously, "It's good to see you looking so well."  
"I'll take your word for it. There are no mirrors in here."  
He gives a smile that's ever so slightly wrong for his face and it makes my stomach ache, "The President would like to meet with you," he carries on, "but before he does so I need to speak with you first."  
The way he says that I feel scared in a way that I have not felt since my name was first drawn before the 74th games.  
"What is it you need?" I say, evenly. I smooth the sheet down on my legs in attempt to gauge just how much give the cuffs and chains on my arms have, not enough to do anything to him without throttling myself. Well, there's an option.  
"I need to talk to you about the rebel plot."  
"What rebel plot?"  
He looks at me, clearly this was an answer he was expecting but he also doesn't believe me, "The arena. Your wife blew it up and you knew nothing about this?" 

There's a moment of confusion on several counts and then I remember what I said in those last interviews. Snow made Katniss wear the wedding dress. We wanted to make him pay. The secret wedding ceremony. Our eternal love. The baby. And they went on anyway. I remember Haymitch talking long into his whiskey about the uproar in the Capitol about our unborn child possibly being killed in the games but they've been watching 12-18 year olds kill each other in them for 75 years now and that's fine.  
Katniss was angry with me for once again dropping a bombshell on her during the interviews, "You come up with these good ideas too." she complained.  
"I have to make up for the fact I'm useless in a fight somehow." I told her, "If we could talk our way out of the arena I'd be great, and that's what I was trying to do."  
It failed, obviously. 

"I don't." I tell Mr Purple and Blue, "We don't. That wasn't the plan."  
"So there was a plan?"  
"To survive, yes. At least for that...we were going to electrocute Br--" I can't say his name. I see my hands all covered in blood, "the career pack and then I don't know what would have happened." I realize my hands are shaking.  
He grabs one of them, very tightly, "You expect me to believe that?" he squeezes. It's as if my skin is squeaking. I feel joints cracking against each other, normally that sensation might be a relief.  
"It doesn't really matter. It's the truth." it's a strain to talk evenly, "If there was some kind of conspirac--" my voice catches and I can't help but cry out in pain given at that point he bends my wrist back.  
"Oh, do go on," he says, pleasantly.  
"Conspiracy," I manage, "I had no idea."  
He releases my arm and it flops against the bed which causes me to cry out in pain again. My wrist is--I stop looking at it.  
"Who was helping you?" he asks.  
"Who was helping us what?" I ask.  
"In the arena?"  
"We--we got sponsors and donations from all sorts of--I don't know. Usually Haymitch signed them? I imagine he got all kinds of Capitol--" he grabs my throat. Maybe I won't have to choke myself, maybe he'll do it for me. I expect him to bring his face to my face but he doesn't. There's an odd noise close to my ears then and pressure and I realize he has claws on his fingers and they're pressing very, very lightly into the back of my neck.  
"That," he says, "is not what I was talking about and I imagine you know that. You're a smart boy, Peeta. Smarter than Katniss. You knew from the get go how to work the system here. If anyone was negotiating deals with people it was you." The claws start to dig in to the back of my neck, "I'm not the type of person that people can talk their way around, so stop trying. Just tell me what was going on. We can sort things out. People can get leniency. I'm sure you'd like to see your wife again. No one wants an innocent child to get hurt."  
"Really? Because you were sure willing to put an innocent child in the arena. What if Katniss had been the one who'd been hit by the force field and whose heart stopped? What then?" I push against his hand. The baby being a lie forgotten in anger, "If you really gave any kind of shit about innocent children there would never be ANY Hunger Games. You wouldn't starve us in the dis--" my air supply is cut off then and I start to see spots before my eyes.


	4. Portia

My name is Peeta Mellark. I come from District 12.  
Because of Katniss I survived the Hunger Games; because of Katniss I'm alive.  
Remember who the real enemy is. The real enemy is the Capitol.  
The real enemy is President Snow.  
Katniss and I did not conspire with the rebels. We did not know what was going on.  
Because of Katniss I survived. My name is Peeta Mellark.  
The real enemy is the Capitol. I am in the Capitol. The real enemy. 

-+-+-+-

"Oh, Peeta, you had us so worried." I can't place the voice, or the hand that's holding mine so tight with concern. Effie? No, it's not Effie. Focus. This has happened before. It has.  
"Ka--Portia?" my voice sound strange.  
She nods, "They finally let me see you. The arena--do you remember what happened?"  
"The sky exploded..."  
She nods. She seems shaky, tired, "I--I've been beside myself with worry."  
I try to move, but I'm strapped down. Panic. My throat hurts. Has this happened before?  
"Do-don't try. You've been having such nightmares th-the doctor said, thrashing about."  
"My throat? Why?"  
"They said Brutus."  
So much blood. I close my eyes.  
"In the arena."  
Wasn't she watching? Surely they showed that? I stabbed him so many times. You have to be sure.  
"No--no there was a man..."  
"What man?" she asks. She looks towards the door. I realize suddenly that she seems terrified. Where's Katniss? I don't want to ask. I remember the questions. Mr Purple and Blue. She reaches to touch my head and face, where I'm lying down. I smell the make up then, and see it caked around her wrist. She's been chained up. What have they been doing? I remember Katniss whispering carefully to me about Cinna, about what they did to him right before she was put up into the arena because of her wedding dress no doubt.  
Remember who the real enemy is.  
"Portia...what ha--?"  
"Hush...you're okay now. You're safe here. Away from the rebels."  
"But, the man."  
"I'm sure it was just part of your nightmares. You probably heard the doctor's talking and got it all muddled up with what happened in the arena." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself too. There's a knocking sound from outside and we both jump. She stands up, "Wu-well, i-it looks like visiting time is over. I'm sure you need your rest. Plus I'm told President Snow has been visiting with the others, Enobaria and Johanna. He'll want to visit with you too. Mu-maybe once your throat is a bit better though." She gives me a slight smile and then quickly leans down and kisses my forehead, "Best to do what they ask, yes. Stay-stay safe."  
As she turns to go I realize she's crying.  
Remember who the real enemy is.


	5. Ice & Snow

I'm not quite awake, possibly on purpose, when they bathe and dress me. It won't do to meet the President with a few days of hospital stink on me. I think it must be more than a few days but I've been in and out, and there's been Mr Purple & Blue even though everyone insists I've only been visited by doctors, nurses and Portia.  
I wonder if they'll put my leg back on, but they don't, because when I come fully too I'm in a wheelchair, and wearing a soft pale blue shirt and soft tan pants. It's a light room and it seems like it has large windows, but the light is not real. It must be projections like in the bedrooms in the training center. I'm near a table, and there's an Avox woman nearby. She pours a glass of water and offers it to me. My hands don't want to work so she holds it so I can drink.  
"Thank you," I say.  
She nods and smiles cautiously and then sets it down on the table.  
Then a door in front of me opens and with crisp, clear steps he walks in and sits down across from me, with a bright cheery smile as though we were just two old friends meeting for afternoon tea. The avox woman pours him a glass of possibly white wine or champagne I can't tell if there are bubbles or not, and sets out a tray of small cakes and then goes back to her position.  
"Ah, Peeta," he says, beaming, "So good to see you up and about. I was told you were recovering nicely."  
"Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol." I muster.  
His eyes flicker for a moment. He's a politician I imagine he noticed my sarcasm. I imagine I might not have been as subtle as I wanted either. Remember who the real enemy is.  
"Now, now," he says, "I thought you would have realized the severity of the situation."  
"I realize a great deal."  
"Good. You always were a smart young man, and it's because of that you are going to do some things for me."  
My mouth is quite dry all of a sudden. It's as if the Avox woman senses this because she brings me the water. Anger, though, helps me hold it by myself and drink from it. I hold it in my lap tightly. She nods and resumes her position.  
Snow drinks from his wine glass, "Pastry? They really are very good. Of course, you would be the expert on these matters."  
Well, if he wants me to do something at least they won't be poisoned and I am hungry. I select one with pink icing and take a careful bite. It's a sponge cake filled with some sort of berry jam that I can't place at the moment.  
Remember who the real enemy is. Don't get distracted. The real enemy is President Snow. The real enemy is the Capitol.  
"The people of the Capitol are scared. They want to know what happened in the arena. They need to hear from someone who was there. You and Katniss are by the favorite tributes of recent years--if not the entire decade." He dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin provided by the Avox. She takes it back and resumes her place, "and let's face it you and Caesar get on far better than Johanna Mason gets along with anyone. Can you imagine her in front of the nation?" He shakes his head.  
"Nation? or Capitol?"  
"I said you were smart," he turns to the Avox, "Didn't I say he was smart?"  
She nods.  
"The Capitol citizens want answers to what happened, and the nation...needs a cease fire."  
"A cease fire?"'  
"Surely you can imagine what madness is going on out there. Miss Everdeen and her merry band of dissidents are trying to incite havoc. I'm sure if all had gone according to plan you'd be out there with them; but it didn't and now, you are our special guest," he takes another sip of wine.  
I put the cake down.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
"Really?" Snow's voice is icy now, "Miss Everdeen promised me that there would be love abounding and peace in the districts now I do believe, wholeheartedly, that the two of you have some sort of feelings for each other, there's definitely love in this room whether there's love where she is...who is to say."  
Remember who the real enemy is.  
"The fact remains that you then treated us to the Mockingjay display, the secret wedding, the love child and the hands across the districts. That was a brilliant way to keep up your end of the bargain. I also appear to be down a game maker once more. I wonder why that might be. What do you think?"  
"I have no idea."  
"Hm." Snow remarks, "So," he says, snatching the napkin from the Avox woman who jumps back as though bitten, "you will talk to Cesar and you will help to fix this mess you have helped create. This is not a request. This is an order. There are a great deal of people who will suffer if you don't. A great deal."  
Who could he be talking about? Katniss is off somewhere. Does he know how things are with "my family"? That's not entirely leverage. The answer comes soon enough. The window becomes a different scene.  
Portia and the rest of my prep team. Handcuffed and kneeling in front of a Capitol banner. Portia has been crying but the tears have dried. I remember her words to me. Do what they say. Is this now? Has this already happened?  
"What's going on?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.  
"I imagine you were wondering who I might be able to hurt." Snow says.  
As the shots ring out and one by one they fall down dead, blood and brains splattering the ground, the banner, each other.  
The enemy is President Snow.


	6. More Games

The real enemy is the Capitol.   
The real enemy is President Snow.   
Katniss and I did not conspire with the rebels.   
We did not know what was going on.   
My name is Peeta Mellark.   
I am from District 12.   
I am in the Capitol. The real enemy.   
The real enemy is the Capitol.  
I must play their games. 

-+-+-+-

There's been food. I didn't want to eat it at first, it seemed like further betrayal but the guard started beating the Avox whose meal I had refused.   
Between meals they've shown me what I didn't know about the games. I've watched it six times now. It's bitter sweet to see Katniss on the recordings, and I fail so wonderfully at the unaffected demeanor I told myself I would portray to them. Especially when Johanna attacked her. Then Beetee unconscious at the tree and Katniss aiming her bow at Finnick but then that reminder I know so well, the one that Haymitch told us before we went into the arena. The one I repeat to myself "Remember who the real enemy is" and she instead wraps the wire around her bow and shooting into the air and blowing out the force field when the lightning hits. She did that. She did it.   
But, I can't believe that she fully grasped what would happen. 

After the second day of tape watching I had the first meeting about the interview. I wanted to back out again but I remember Portia's words and I remember her tear stained face as the back of her skull and her brains exploded. Caesar will greet you. Caesar will ask you about what happened, speak about your experiences, about how you knew nothing of the rebel plot, about how you are victims in all this. It makes me want to laugh, on day three I do laugh and they sedate me. Then I wake up and we watch the tapes again. I don't want to watch the tapes again; but we must, I'm told. 

The next day, there is a slight change in schedule. I get to see other things which are going on out in the districts. There are bombings, and fire fights. These are due to what happened in the arena. 

"You must understand, Mr. Mellark." I am told, "Things were difficult before, but now, with what happened...this is why the cease fire is so important. This is why you must memorize this. Caesar will ask you about this at the end of the interview and you will repeat it word for word. Word for word." 

Two days ago I got my leg back, oh hip hooray and I've been allowed to walk, with an escort.

I must practice out loud and repeat I have them memorized. I must sit with the Avox who was beaten, looking at her purple and yellowing, swollen face, reading the words to her and then after a while she takes the script and I recite them and she shakes her head or nods approvingly depending on my success. She, of course, can't tell me what I've said incorrectly but she shows me the lines and we go again. Over and over until I can hear them all the time. I could swear they are playing in my sleep. 

But I must play their game.


	7. Pose for the Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the content of this chapter draws heavily on and in some cases quotes directly from chapter 2 of Mockingjay itself (pages 21-26 of my edition which is ISBN 978-0-439-02354-2), when you read it I hope you'll understand why. There really wasn't any other way to do it, considering. Though I did borrow Caesar's description from the movie, because that suit was fabulous. All that being said, I hope you like it.

I can't look at the new prep team and stylist when the first come in. They must know what happened to the previous team. They must be afraid of getting too close. They don't introduce themselves. They just get to work. It's a grand day. I'm supposed to be happy that I'm well again.  
Today, I'm washed and pressed and powdered and cleaned and scented and put into a nice white suit that I feel the president must have picked out of his old closet himself not that anyone in the Capitol probably keeps anything more than three weeks and then I have an honor guard accompanying me to a room not too far away. I wonder if it's the same room I met President Snow in just re-furnished. There are cameras, and large arm chairs. It looks almost cosy, flowers on low tables, warm steaming mugs of chocolate, and to the side Caesar is in a patterned suit, dark with blue and gold floral print, it glitters and sparkles, of course.  
His face lights up when he sees me and he bats away his prep team who are making sure the poof on his pale pink hair is appropriately poofy, "Oh, come on, if you haven't got me looking gorgeous by now you're not going to work any miracles," and he guffaws at himself, throwing his head back, and comes over to me. The guards move to sides of the room, somewhat discreetly. I'm impressed.  
"Peeta, my boy! So good to see you." He gives me a slight hug and then pulls back I try to work out if it's genuine concern that I flinched, "Don't you worry now, you know I only bite if you ask me."  
I wonder if they've threatened him too. If I don't perform to expectations will he also be beaten or shot?  
He puts his hand on my shoulder, "It will be alright," he insists, "do you know what you're going to say?"  
"You mean other than promoting a cease fire?"  
He pats my shoulder gently, "Peace would help everyone." Caesar says.  
I look from left to right at the guards and think better of saying what I really think about that notion, how the districts can't go back to being under the Capitol's heel.  
"Come sit," Caesar says, guiding me to the chairs, "Let's get comfortable. It's just going to be a nice chit chat. Just take it like that. Nice and easy." He leans forward and pats my real leg after we've sat down, "We won't start rolling until you're ready."  
I shake my head, "Let's just dive in, if that's okay with you."  
"Ever the work horse," Caesar says, "That's one of the many things I admire about you."  
I can't help but smile.  
"There we go," he says, "There's the Peeta I remember."  
He waves at his crew and settles back in the chair.  
"So...Peeta...welcome back."  
I treat him to a slight smile, "I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar."  
I have to admit it's easy to speak of the next things because it's mostly true, other than the "baby bomb" as Haymitch calls it. I was willing to sacrifice myself so that Katniss would get out. I'd said as much to Haymitch when they first announced the tributes for the 75th games would be reaped from the existing victims. Maybe if I can make people see the depth and terror of the games it will help.  
So I describe it. The arena, the jungle. I tell them we were insects trapped in a bowl. How the rest of the world falls away and the blood is all that's real, because I can still see it. The blood of the Morphling who threw herself in front of the mutt monkey and Brutus...oh Brutus. I'll have to talk about that, to make them understand.  
"As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing, because in the arena you only get one wish. And it's very costly."  
"It costs your life." Caesar assumes.  
"Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life." I correct him, hearing Brutus' skull crush beneath Chaff's hand blade as I stabbed it in there over and over, "To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are."  
"Everything you are." Caesar repeats.  
There's no way he could possibly understand though, sitting there in his sparkling suit, going home every day to hundreds more of them, and his scented showers and social circles and banquets. I've seen the articles about him during the other visits to the Capitol. Katniss and I spent a half hour making jokes about him watching a biography of his while taking a break from reviewing tapes of previous Hunger Games.  
"So, yes," I explain to him how I absolutely wanted to save Katniss. I admit it would have been better if we'd found a way to escape. What could it matter at this point if I say such things? It's already over and done with, she's there and I'm here and there are too many other things that I have to do. I may as well be truthful before I have to.  
Caesar brings up Beetee then and the "plan" that we were told about. I've seen it over and over this past week and it's got me more and more frustrated.  
I wind up yelling at him that we were too caught up in the allies game and how it caused me to lose her, how we couldn't press the argument without making our plan to betray them too clear. I wonder then exactly where they'll transmit this too, if wherever she is, she'll see this. Is she back in our district? Surely it would be too obvious for the rebels to be hiding out there--do they have some secret place within the Capitol itself? That would be funny, hiding right under Snow's imperious nose.  
I wonder if she'll see it because then I have to admit, "When the wire was cut everything went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff." Block out the blood, "Killing Brutus myself." No details. Don't need details, "I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree," and the sky exploded, "and the force field around the arena...blew out."  
"Katniss blew it out, Peeta. You've seen the footage."  
Do you know HOW many times I've seen that footage, Caesar? Do you? But instead I just angrily point out to him that none of us knew what Beetee's actual plan was.  
"All right," Caesar puts his hands up, "It just looks suspicious. As if she was part of the rebels' plan all along."  
I don't quite realize I'm in his face until I'm in his face. Once I do I wonder if the guards are going to shoot me, but I plow on anyway and we'll see what happens, "Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing? She didn't know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except we were trying to keep each other alive!"  
He puts his hands on my chest, "Okay, Peeta." I honestly believe at that point that he might genuinely care about my feelings, "I believe you."  
"Okay," I sit back down, willing myself not to break down completely. Please say we're done. I just want to sleep.  
But then he asks me about Haymitch. I have no idea about Haymitch and I tell him so. Clearly, he knew a bunch of things, but I'm not going to tell him that. The fact that I shouldn't have trusted him is out before I meant it to be, but obviously Haymitch was in on things. He set things up with Finnick. He sent us packages. He set up alliances that we didn't even begin understand. People throwing their lives away for us, that poor Morphling woman, Chaff--his own good friend.  
Caesar leans over and pats my shoulder, "We can stop now if you want."  
Oh, thank you, "Was there more to discuss?"  
"I was going to ask your thoughts on the war..." he says. I can feel my stomach sinking, at the same time those words rise up inside my brain like clockwork, "but if you're too upset..."  
"Oh, I'm not too upset to answer that," I lie. Best to do what they ask, Portia said. Safer that way. They're not my words, and it's not my mouth, "I want everyone watching--whether you're on the Capitol or on the rebel side..." and out they come.  
Even when Caesar talks with me, more words...some of them I don't remember hearing before, card houses? where did that come from?  
Did the camera turn off before I put my hands over my mouth?  
"That was a wonderful interview, my boy. I wouldn't be surprised if you brought people to tears!" Caesar says, "I don't think I was too bad either!" he laughs, throwing his head back, "Wasn't he amazing?"  
His prep team and stylist applaud politely. One of the guards does too.  
I throw up into a nearby flower vase.


	8. Congrats

My name is Peeta Mellark.  
I come from District 12.  
I have to remember who the real enemy is.  
The real enemy is the Capitol.  
The real enemy is President Snow. 

-+-+-+-

The guards escort me quickly from the room. I just make out a slight look of concern on Caesar's face as we rush by, and something about again and soon as the door closes. I have hands on both my elbows.  
"What? What's going on?"  
I don't know why I expected an answer.  
We're back in the prep room in what seems to be an instant. But the prep team is not there. I wonder if they're being executed. It seems like the thing to do to prep teams nowadays. The room is quiet. One guard waits by the door. The other turns on the screen nearby and there is President Snow beaming at me.  
"Excellent interview, Mr. Mellark. I am most pleased that you followed the script."  
"Thank you." I say, cautiously, feeling bile rising in my stomach once more.  
"It's wonderful to see a young person so passionate." His smile widens and I feel as though I'm about to get eaten. Cold is creeping up through my hands and my foot. What is coming now? Before when Katniss and I were having to play at romance it was different we had the hope of going back to 12 and at least having time off camera where we could hopefully just stay friends. This is...I don't want to think about it, “The people need to have these reassurances from someone they can relate to, of course, someone they understand.”   
"Of...course..." I say. Maybe if I just bolt I can launch myself at that guard. The other one will shoot me and then they won't have their little mouth piece any more. Yes, because they're going to shoot to kill. I'm sure Snow's said they're to do that. Be smart. You have other limbs.  
"I'm glad that we can count on you.”   
“It doesn't seem like I have much choice,” I see the guards to my left and behind me.   
“The sooner these things calm down,” Snow says, “The sooner everyone can go home. Panem thanks you for your service." He makes a motion with his hand and the image disappears.


	9. Prisoner True

I'm allowed to shower myself, but there's a guard at the door and an Avox right outside who passes me things that I need to be sure that I don't have access to anything dangerous. She had worked with us at the training center I realize which is why she looks familiar; but I don't remember her name at first.  
I wonder if they'll give me my leg back when I get out or not. Since they've allowed me one again it's been much more basic than the original. Helps keep their mutt on a leash though. It cant get wet, doesn't move very smoothly, so it's hard for me to run.  
I lower myself to the bottom of the shower and sit. Why they've brought me in here I don't know. There's a random thought about sitting there forever until use up all the Capitol's water supply or wash myself down the drain somehow, or if I can hold my mouth open long enough to drown myself.  
The Avox raps on the side of the shower room and I lean over to open the door a crack, "Yes?"  
She looks concerned seeing me on the floor.  
"I'm okay. Just..." I don't want to get into it.  
She makes a gesture which I infer means the time is up. I pull up on the rails and get out of the shower dripping for the towel. She has a pair of pants for me, not the ones I was wearing for the interview, but not the plain pants I've been wearing during rehearsal days either. The guard is holding my leg and shows no sign of giving it back. Despite my protests that I'm okay the Avox helps me put the pants on. She makes a gesture I don't understand but I'm guessing having seen it a few times means something like, "it's okay" or "no problem" or maybe "it's my job".  
"So...what happens now?" I ask the guard, "Hospital--?" I'm about to ask something else, but he puts up the hand holding my leg in a dismissive rather than handing over motion and appears to be listening to something. After a moment he walks towards the two of us. I think for a moment he's handing over the leg but instead he raises it up as a weapon. Years of Mom's rolling pin are probably nothing like a prosthetic leg but it's not me that gets hit with it it's the Avox woman and she goes down with a strangled noise.  
I launch myself at him before he can fully raise the arm again but balance is not the best on the one leg and I wind up falling between the two of them. It does mean I can block him instead and try to wrestle the leg from him and push the Avox to get out of the way given she did move when I almost fell on her.  
The guard gets this slight smile on his face and I can feel my shoulder throbbing from where the blow hit. When he moves I swing hoping I can use my one leg and the fact I'm pretty solid still to somehow knock him off balance. He's solid too and wearing armor which doesn't help but he teeters enough that a shove from my not throbbing shoulder gets him on his back and he goes down with a thud. This unfortunately brings other guards in from outside, and gets me stun blasted. 

My shoulders and wrists are aching, and I realize as I come too with the groggy drug hangover that it's because I'm hanging at an awkward angle, suspended by my wrists from the wall. I'm not alone in the small room. The Avox woman from before is there, Lavinia, her name is Lavinia, and after a moment the door opens and someone else is kicked into the room. They make an odd gurgling sound as they fall on the floor spittle and blood spilling from their mouth as a guard kicks him in the stomach over and over and then drags him to the wall and chains him up I realize then this is the other Avox who worked on our floor of the training center, Darius.  
This has all been a trick. They must have planned this. They killed the prep team and Portia because they had contact with me before, because we were friends, and therefore clearly must have been co-conspirators in the rebellion and now this. These people also helped with Katniss and I. The Capitol is making them suffer because of me.  
This is my fault.  
Maybe I am the enemy.


	10. Avoxes

My name is Peeta Mellark. My name is Peeta Mellark. My name is Peeta Mellark.   
I am in a cell. I am in a cell in the Capitol.   
I am in the Capitol. The Capitol is the enemy. The President is the enemy.   
I must remember.   
I must remember. 

-+-+-+-

Lavinia dies screaming, jerking, electricity jolting through her, hair sizzling. Darius and I are screaming too. The whole room echoes with it. I think my head will explode like the sky in the arena.   
It seems so long ago.   
How long ago was it?  
Darius is bleeding from where they cut off his ear and the joints of two fingers on his right hand. His head lolls and the sound he makes as he cries...a sort of howl and clicking, gurgle. I'm ashamed that it turns my stomach.   
"What are they planning?" the guard asks, as the other one pokes Lavinia's body as if he doesn't believe she's dead, that she might be faking them out somehow even though it's been at least five minutes since the screaming stopped.   
Darius shakes his head, then another screaming howl and the faint thud of another finger joint.   
"Stop it!" I shout, "He doesn't know anything!"   
Two more fingers and half his foot later, and me getting hit across the face twice by the other guard for interrupting them, they drag out Lavinia's body, as the door opens I make out a noise I am both thankful and heart-sick to hear. Johanna Mason cursing up a storm. Someone landing some sort of blow on someone else and then the heavy thud that I feel is more likely her being sedated and falling than being killed, or her killing someone because if she got away there'd be running and some sort of whoop of joy most likely, and besides they're not about to kill a victor they can torture.   
Darius and I are hanging across from each other, for a long moment I can't look at him, but then I do, battered and bloody, red liquid pooling on the floor and sliding down the drain in the center of the room. One eye is swelling shut, and his lip is split.   
"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I'm so sorry."   
He shakes his head, eyes bright.   
No. No. It is my fault.


	11. Victors & Avoxes

I pull so hard against the restraints trying to get to the guard that's questioning Darius that I feel my wrist give. It takes a while for the pain of that to hit. It does in the middle of me screaming at him and gives me a moment's pause which sends me coughing on my own spit.   
I'm so hungry my stomach hurts, but I've been there before. Our side of 12 often had a bit more food than Katniss' but the Peacekeepers would come through at times and take almost everything, and Mom would get so mad if--but what's it matter...who knows if I'll ever see them again?  
I'm surprised they haven't been rounded up and brought here to be shot or hung or dismembered in front of me too.   
"Do you want some too?" The bloody blade is wiped on the tip of my nose.   
The other guard pulls his companion's arm away, "Remember the orders."   
My left wrist is throbbing and pulsing. I try to pull it around, see if perhaps I can slip it out of the restraint now. There's supposed to be some way...isn't there? Dislocate something, get out restraints? That's your thumb...can't even do that right.   
Darius is just whimpering now, from what little I've been able to make out recently when they've not been in here, he's fading. He makes odd babbling noises. He's sweaty. Now he just seems to be gurgling and the response doesn't change no matter what they do, but then his legs are down to nubs both shorter than my one. He has neither ear, no nose, no fingers. They've started flaying flesh from him in between shocking him, but less violently than they would shock Lavinia.   
They come in at odd times. I've no idea how long it's been that we've been in here. It feels like any time either of us begins to fall asleep or pass out a pair of guards comes in and begins again on him with the questions that...especially now he has no fingers there's even less chance he could answer--as if he would have known in the first place; and they won't stop. They just won't stop. Nothing I've said. Nothing I've offered to say. They won't--they don't stop coming back.   
Now I'm just hoping that he will die soon so that it's over for him.   
Just, please, Darius, please, give up.   
Please.   
They haven't given us enough water recently for me to be able to cry.

A scream jolts me awake. It's not Darius. It's not me. Though I do cry out when I jolt because my wrist pulls against the restraint and reminds me what I did to it. A quick glance shows it's discolored and swollen. I can barely move my hand around. This is the scream of an angry, angry woman. I've heard it before because it was shortly followed by her, covered in dried blood, yelling at Katniss on the beach in the clockwork nightmare of the last arena. It's coming from behind me loudly, almost making the wall vibrate.   
"Try that again, asshole! Come on!" she snaps, "It's gonna get you the same thing!"   
I look across at Darius, but his head is still slumped to one side against his shoulder, stumps of legs tourniqueted off. I hope he's finally died. Then my stomach turns over at the idea, but it will be better. It will. They won't be able to hurt him any more.   
Another scream from the room behind me, "Is that it? Is that all you've got? What did they teach you in guard academy?"  
Then she screams but it turns into a sort of growl and she barks a few times. I find myself laughing a little and shake my head. Darius still hasn't moved.   
There's silence from the other room now.   
All this is going on and Johanna...damn.  
I find myself laughing and then I realize that the laugh isn't stopping and I...  
"Hey-hey...whoever you are, what the hell!?" her voice cuts through, "Shit! Are they fucking tickling you in there? That's so unfair!"   
I choke then and the cough is dry because I'm so thirsty. I manage to dredge up some spit and swallow, "No. No tickling. Thank you. I couldn't..."   
"Oh, damn," she says, and there's a thunking sound which I feel is her banging her head against the wall, "Damn. Damn. Damn, Blondie, Twelve, damn it...fiance...Peeta, that's it. Is that you?"  
"I'm afraid so."  
She snorts, "Things so..." and then she stops.   
"What?" I demand.   
Silence.   
"Were you about to say something about some sort of plan?" Then I stop, because obviously there was a plan and obviously they're listening in to everything that goes on in the cells and obviously the plan, whatever it was went wrong so what does it matter what she says, besides, of course the Mockingjay is more important than the baker kid--but Johanna got left behind too.   
The best part Katniss hated all of that stuff, all she ever wanted to do was go home to her mother and her sister. I wonder what she even thinks of all their plans now that she's with them and they're telling her things. If they are. They never told any of us much of anything in the first place, "Never mind." I mutter.   
"Yeah." She says, "Fuck 'em all."

We fall silent. I wonder if she's gone to sleep. I don't push.   
"Darius?" I say, cautiously. Though if he didn't get woken up by my hysterical laughter then...I allow myself to feel relieved and then the guilt courses once more. This man died because of me. Lavinia died because of me. They killed both of them because of me just because they knew me.   
I'm making my own horrible choking sobs when the door opens and they unhook me from the wall and drag me out.


	12. Test Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a slight delay before the next few chapters. I've already gotten myself in a knot a couple of times given what's going on with him at this point. I thank you for your patience and for your support and kind words about my writing <3.

My name is Peeta Mellark.   
I am from District 12.   
I grew up in a baker's shop.   
The Avox died because of me.   
The game is never over.   
The odds are never in our favor. 

-+-+-+-

The trip to wherever we've wound up seemed the longest ever. Mostly because being drug along the way I was did nothing for my arm. The throbbing worked it's way into my brain. I doubt the guards cared if they noticed. I wasn't exactly quiet before they extracted me. Now I'm just exhausted but my brain won't shut off.  
I think my emotional state is the topic of conversation, between the people in the room. The guards were directed to strap me to this bed, which they did and then left. In amongst the various layers there seems to be a debate of it something needs to be done now or later. Someone comes over and looks me up and down. Then they notice my wrist. They poke at it. I make noise.   
There's some comment about birds and I'm jabbed with a needle.   
I no longer care about my wrist because my whole world is on fire. It's burning over my skin, and my skin is blistering. Monkeys howling and my body heavy as I hear her voice, "the water--the water helps!"   
Dragging myself, Finnick along side. We pull down into the pool, feeling the welts and the poison from them leeching into the water. It's not...  
"We have to go. We can't stay, there'll be monkeys..."   
"We need to rest, Peeta."   
"No. No. I feel like."   
"You're not making any sense. You just got electrocuted."   
"No, but--but this place is a clock--Wiress--but this is wrong..." this is wrong. I'm not here, I can't...and then it's cold, so cold, and I can feel my breath being stolen away, as someone pulls me from behind trying to hold me under the water, and then I'm slammed into the oven in the back of the bakery Mom's voice yelling at me for wasting bread. Reminding me how worthless I am at doing these things, at keeping an eye on the shop. My mother pointing out that 12 might have a victor, reminding me that they'll never see me again.   
Just don't die in some embarrassing way.   
It's all jumbled.   
The town shaking from the force of the mine explosion, coughing on the clouds of ash and smoke in the air. The fog burning my skin, climbing up under the wet suit, the tingling all over my body from the shock of the forcefield, from the shock of the tazers when they put me down for fighting the guard over Lavinia.   
Lavinia screaming as she was shocked.   
Lavinia screaming.   
Katniss calling my name.   
Lavinia screaming.   
My mother screaming at me.   
Lavninia.   
My mother.   
Katniss.   
Lavinia.   
My mother.   
Katniss.   
It's too loud.   
It's too loud.   
It's too loud.


	13. Baldie & Blondie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got in a knot anyway...misplaced 13, wound up with two of them, 13 is 15...fun times. Turns out I'm actually missing 14, not 13...it'll be alright. You'll have to wait for Caesar's second interview. I'll be sorting out 14 now. By way of apology have ACTUAL 13 that I had already written. It *does* have Johanna in it though, so hopefully that's consolation.

I hit my head on the cell wall when I wake up to a loud noise, which does nothing to help the head ache I realize I have once I open my eyes. My eyes are sore too. They sting and burn. My throat is very dry. I cough and cough and wind up spitting out a wad of something I can't make out in the dim light. I do realize then that Darius truly is gone.  
"Blondie? Is that you?" Johanna's voice is softer than I can remember hearing.  
"I...think so?"  
"I'll take it," she says, "You're talking and not--." She fades off then.  
"Okay?" My voice feels raspy, "What's new with you?"  
She snickers, "I have all my fingers and toes, so I'm peachy."  
"Good for you."  
"I'm thinking of putting in a skylight."  
"Good to have a hobby, I suppose." I tell her.  
"Yeah, it keeps you busy," she bangs her head against the wall, and I pull mine away from the one behind my head given the first bang set a concussion grenade through my temple and my teeth on edge. I wonder if I could chew through my tongue and bleed out. I'm sure they'd notice and come in, sew me back together.  
"Oh--come back for more?" Johanna asks. It takes me half a moment to realize she's not taking to me.  
My door opens. I tense. Someone stalks in and grabs my head. My mouth is held roughly open and someone else squeezes something in. It's a cold, salty paste dropped onto my tongue. It slides down the back of my throat and I almost choke again but I'm able to move enough that it doesn't happen and I can chew, what little it needs, and swallow, the mostly tastless paste. I'm then given five drops of water, and they leave again.  
"Come back here and I'll show you where you can shove your paste!" I hear from Johann'as side as my feeders leave the cell.  
My eyes are starting to close again, without my consent, when Johanna going, "Oh, took me up on it?" brings me up again. Then a loud noise reverberates and I panic recognizing the sound of a gun.  
"Johanna! Johanna!" then logic.  
Shouting isn't going to bring her back if she was just shot but why would they feed her if they were just going to shoot her so it was more likely a tazer, no the sound was wrong, a tranquilizer? My head is all screwy it probably just sounded off. Who would dare get close enough to Johanna to try and inject her via needle? It was probably hard enough to feed her the paste.  
I make myself as quiet as possible and can just make out an odd buzzing noise coming from her cell.

I can hear Katniss calling my name. It gets louder and louder, more and more shrill. I feel like my head is going to split in two. I want to clutch at it but I can't move.  
Someone is holding me. Hot breath. Coarse laughter.  
"Damn thing won't light."  
"Give it to me."  
"What's so funny, lover boy?"  
"All the training you guys go through and you can't light a fire?"  
"I suppose you could do better?"  
My lungs are burning.  
I need to swim up.  
Who is that screaming? 

I wake pulling against the restraints. My wrist is hurting, but not as badly as it has before. Before? They fixed it. They fix everything.  
There's screaming. It's coming from behind me. Johanna? Johanna. What are they doing? Her screams are odd, here and there, muffled. I feel myself shivering. It's colder in here. Water. It's water I realize as I just make out, "I'm not telling you shit!" it sounds like when my brother was trying to talk while our father was dumping water over his head urgently to clean him up for...for one of the reapings and he was protesting that it wasn't his fault he was so dirty.  
I'm not sure how long it goes on for. I can't block it out. I grit my teeth. I tuck my head down. As she curses at them, and tells them to bring it harder, tells them where they can shove things, argues, yells, curses more, and then it all goes quiet and I daren't even breathe.  
"Johanna?" I realize my voice might not be loud enough to make it between the walls so I cough at myself and then ask again more loudly, "Seven? Johanna?"  
"What is it Twelve?" she demands, drily.  
"Wanted to make sure you hadn't gone and killed them and left me behind."  
I imagine a derisive snort, "I don't know that your future wife would forgive me if I did that." she replies.  
"So you say."  
"Don't act like that."  
"What?"  
"We have enough two year olds in the Capitol."  
Remember who the real enemy is.  
"Make me a deal, Blondie?"  
"Okay."  
"Keep it real, okay?"  
I lean my head against the wall.  
"What else can I do?"  
"Exactly. You keep it real with me. I'll keep it real with you. It'll help us stay sane in here," this time I do hear the snort, "as much as any of us were sane to begin with."  
"Speak for yourself."  
"There you go," she says, "It's working already. You know these assholes cut off my hair. Like that's supposed to make me more likely to do what they want? Do I get to call you, Baldie, instead of Blondie?"  
"No. I've still got my hair."  
"That's no fair."  
"You've still got all your toes."  
"You can't pull that one. I watched those games. That's on that career kid."  
"Cato." He was more than a little 'upset' with me when I got Katniss away from them after the tracker jackers were dropped. I had led them to believe I was going to draw her too them after all.  
"I suppose you would remember his name, but that's on him not these guys, so that doesn't count."  
"They're the ones who actually cut it off. He just sliced it." It doesn't do any good thinking about the possibilities now though. I could be like Darius. They could be slowly slicing the other one a few inches at a time. They could cut my tongue out but then where would we be?


	14. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few references/quotes from chapter 8 of "Mockingjay" in here.

I am a prisoner.  
My name is Peeta Mellark.  
I am seventeen years old.  
Seventeen. Seventeen.  
I survived the arena. 

-+-+-+-

It's so hot I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm so dry and so thirsty. We all are. Finnick, Mags, Katniss. Where's the spile? Where is it? I thought it was here...hasn't it been sent? Things are all mixed up. Wait? Is the fog coming? I'm not tingling...was I electrocuted?  
"Peeta?" Katniss asks. It's a gentle ask. There's no shrieking or screaming, but for a moment her clothing is black with red flames and not the wet suit it's supposed to be. I blink. She reaches for me, scales and claws. I pull back, "Peeta? What's wrong?"  
"What did they do to you?"  
"What are you talking about?" She's still reaching towards me. Everything is normal.  
I hesitate. I look at Finnick and Mags. They're both fine, "I'm seeing things. I'm a risk."  
"We're not leaving you behind." Finnick says, firmly, "Don't be a fool."  
Mags shakes her head also, and points towards me and Katniss and makes a hand clasp motion and then a baby cradling motion.  
"Think about what you're doing." Finnick says.  
I apologize and then, "We need water. Maybe there's some nearby. There can't be none in the arena. That would be a very boring game all of us slowly dying of dehydration."  
"If we go mad and turn on each other, but ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with?"  
This doesn't seem right. I look towards Katniss, but there she goes again. Claws and scales...and fire. Firey wings. I scrub my eyes. No. Still there. Wonderful. She launches herself towards me.  
"No. They've turned you into a weapon!" Fangs ripping at my throat. Maybe it's not her and I've just gone that mad. I try to pull her away. It doesn't seem that she's ripped my throat completely I can't feel blood spurting away though, but I am burning. I can feel the heat. My skin is blistering from contact with her. I can't push her off though something is holding me back, my arms won't move, they're being held by something. I can't. I can't move.  
"Get away! Get off!"  
"Do you really know what's going on?" Finnick yells.


	15. Fire, Snow and Feelings

How did I even get here? Haymitch. No, me. No, Snow. Snow called the Victors to the arena. We could have been trapped as mentors instead, living out our fake shiny happiness for years and years, but I remember my hand shaking as I knocked on the door of his house. I didn't expect him to come to the door given he was drowning himself on the best of days. We had a 50/50 shot of being picked but he was no good to us in the arena.   
"S'open..." I walked in. He laughed, sarcastic, "Figured it was you. She wouldn't have knocked." I doubt she even knows what's at stake.   
I stopped then, looking at him and him looking at me across the room. Doom closing in around us. There might be a chance on either of our names but she was going. There was no one else, "How can I keep her alive?" I asked him.   
"This again?" he said.   
I walked towards his table and put my hands on it to keep steady, "Of course, this again. I only got out last time because of her..." Last time, though...last time I was terrified. Last time I didn't think I could do anything except maybe help people like her enough to get sponsors and perhaps last a few days in the arena a week at most. There was no way I thought I would be here now.   
Haymitch snorted.   
"...well, that and whatever else you were doing outside, but no matter that you were not in there with us. No matter what you were doing in the viewing halls someone or something could have still killed me in the arena if it wasn't for her. It doesn't matter how many pretty parachutes you send."   
He took a long swig of whatever he was drinking, "Fair enough."   
"You are more use to us out here than in there. You have contacts. You have all sorts of people. I have none of that. So, if I get called let it go. If you get called I'll volunteer for you."   
"Peeta..."   
"What?" I said, "You know that's how it has to go. You know that's what you were going to tell me, isn't it? Katniss has to live. She has to, and you can make that happen from out here. I can't."   
"That's true." He said, "and you might be able to help stop the games from up there, and I sure as hell can't. I am not a pretty talker. I do not have a way with words."   
"What do you mean?"   
"Sit down, boy." He dropped onto the couch, "You're making me nervous."   
I sat down in the chair at the table nearest the couch, facing him, right arm resting on the table. "You know how pissed you feel right now? Imagine how pissed the other victors feel. They've been living off the Capitol for years now, some of them have even had it pretty good. They sure as hell don't want to go back into the arena and have to fight to the death." He paused, "Though I can think of a couple who might volunteer for much less noble reasons than you."   
"Everything's upset already..." I tell him, "...it's a powder keg out there. It could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. The tour. Snow..."   
"True." He says, "But I guarantee you. No-one else going up for tribute wants these games."  
"But--"  
He waves me to get up as he gets up himself and guides me towards the door, "They might want to kill other people...but they don't want to die and there are some who'll get drawn who have just as much of a grudge against Snow as we do. Just have to find them." The door opens and he pushes me out into the snow. I slip in the doorway and fall onto the ground in the cold, icy snow.   
No, the snow...was gathering snow to put on Gale's back after they whipped him.   
That was...the snow is so cold it burns my hands, and soaks through my clothes but I'm being pulled in to it and I can't get out. It's sticky and I'm too heavy as I sink into the ground and the snow caves in over me and smothers me, and then fire and screams. 

Flailing against the cuffs, jolts me awake, pain from my wrist that's still sore, despite them doing something that's helping it heal. The arena's fading around me, and hear I am, kicking out against the floor, and restraints banging against the wall. I realize I'm shouting and screaming.   
"Doing okay in there, Twelve?" Johanna's voice cuts through the remaining haze.  
I must have been yelling for some time as sore as my throat is. Johanna sounded...concerned. Has she been trying for a while?  
"I was...I was...there was...burning..."   
"Fire and water..." Johanna tuts, "I wonder if someone's getting buried alive somewhere, lucky bastard. Still got all your fing--as many fingers and toes as you came in with?"  
I can't help but laugh a little even though it makes my throat ache, "Yes. Still got my hair too."   
"Ass." She's quiet for a moment, "They were burning you and they didn't burn your head?"  
She's right. It doesn't make any sense. Where was the fire? It was all over my chest and my arms but everything I can see looks fine. Everything I can't there's nothing taut--nothing pulls when I move. I remember burning my arm on the oven and that flesh smell that went through the town along with coal and smoke after...  
"I don't..."   
"Blondie?"   
"Finnick was..."   
"Finnick's not here. Finnick's lapping it up in Dis...some place that I have no knowledge of WHATSOEVER!" she snaps, "No idea where he would be. No idea. No idea. Why did you mention him?"  
"He had me pinned. Katniss was burning me."   
"The hell, Twelve? Was there some wound they closed on you before we met up? Or was there some weird sex thing that happened in the--forget it. You and the Mockingjay are way too into each other to let some--besides he has his Annie and you have each other. I'm just in pent up crazy town right now. Forget it."  
"Katniss and I aren't--"   
"Aren't what?"  
"She doesn't." I counter.   
"Doesn't what?" Johanna sounds genuinely confused.   
"Love me."   
There is a long exasperated noise from the other cell, "Get over here so I can beat the pity party out of you." She makes a sort of scream shout similar to the one she yelled in the arena, "You guys might have play-acted some in 74, and I don't claim to be any kind of love expert but there are feelings she has and they are for you. Maybe she doesn't even understand them but they are there, so stop being an idiot, and don't you dare tell anyone I ever said anything like this."   
"Okay."   
"Did you say something?"   
"I said 'Okay'"   
"Good. Now lets talk about something else. I gotta get this sappy taste out of my mouth."


	16. Caesar's Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the nature of this chapter, much like the other one that covers an interview between Peeta and Caesar this uses dialogue from "Mockingjay". The dialogue in this is from Chapter 8, page 113 of "Mockingjay" by Suzanne Collins, speaking for the edition I own whose ISBN is 978-0-439-02354-2

I am trapped in the Capitol.  
The Capitol is the enemy.  
My name is Peeta Mellark.  
Stop the war.  
Johanna and I must survive.  
The odds are not in our favor.  
I *must* remember who the enemy is.  
Think about what you're doing.  
No matter what my sleep says. 

-+-+-+-

I must be hallucinating but no we did go through prep. We did even if the team were mostly silent, except for the occasional chit-chat with each other. I still smell the make up. All that happened. It hurts too much when Caesar hugs me though. There's a flicker of concern on his face. I manage to stop myself from laughing. Flicker of concern. Caesar Flickerman. It's not funny. It's not. I bite my lip.  
"It's good to see you again, Peeta."  
They've offered me cocoa. I can't drink it. It smells so very sweet. I feel like I will throw up. I can't do that. Again.  
"I'm sorry about last time."  
"What about it?" he has that same broad smile, but also looks confused.  
"The plant...I..."  
"Oh, please," he waves a hand, "Those things are inconsequential. Though it's not like you to get stage fright. Especially not after the broadcast."  
"No...I..."  
"Come on. Come on. Sit down. Sit down."  
We walk over to the chairs. The artificial fire place is so bright. Everything hurts my eyes. I feel unsteady. It's so long since I've had the leg on, and it doesn't fit right. When they first put it on during prep it chafed and as I started walking there were weird jolts through the stump but everything else hurts so much I don't really notice the individual things any more. I sink into the chair and I feel as though I'll be swallowed up. Caesar waits while I situate myself until that feeling stops.  
"How are you feeling?"  
"I can't complain."  
He gives a slight chortle at that, "I suppose not."  
No kidding. There's a brightness around him for a moment as he moves, halos and sparkles with the light and I shut my eyes to get away from it, even his teeth are blinding.  
"Are you alright, Peeta? are you too upset?"  
"No. No. I'm fine." I swallow. I look at him. I have to do this. It's important, "We'll get through."  
"Good, there's a boy." He pats my leg, carefully, "Now, do you remember what we were going to discuss today?"  
I dredge through my mind. Things are a little fuzzy, but I can see it. The war. Something terrible happened in District 8. Things are bad. The rebels...the radicals, "Propos?"  
"I told you he was good." Caesar remarks to someone off to the side. The lights are too bright over there. Halos. I pinch my eyes. That was a bad idea. That made everything hurt worse, "Are you sure you're alright?" Voices echo, "Are you too upset?"  
"No. No. I'm fine." I look over at him and muster what I hope is a reassuring smile. This is important.  
"Good. Good." Caesar makes a motion with his hand, and I see a few cameras whirl around.  
"Playing intro," someone says, "and 3...2...1..."  
"Peeta..." Caesar says, "I'm sure I'm not the only one who is glad to see you again."  
"That's very generous of you, Caesar." I tell him.  
"I'm sure that you, as we all are, are grateful to be safe and sound given what's going on in the other districts at this time."  
I nod, "It's a tragedy. I can't believe things are so bad out there..."  
Caesar tuts and shakes his head, "Yes, a tragedy. There are so many tragedies and it doesn't help if people get senselessly riled up, you know?"  
"I imagine not."  
"There are rumors, you might have heard, that Katniss Everdeen is taping propoganda films for the radicals in the districts to whip up such fervor..."  
"They're using her obviously," just like you're using me. I look at him. So blinding and bright, "I doubt she even knows what's going on in the war. What's at stake."  
"Is there anything you would like to tell her?" Caesar asks me.  
"There is," Get me out of here. Get Johanna out of here. I don't care how you feel about me. Just help me please...or blow up the whole building if you have to. Just make this stop, but my mouth says, "Don't be a fool, Katniss. Think for yourself. They're using you. They've turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. If you've got any real influence, use it to put the brakes on this thing. Use it to stop the war before it's too late. Ask yourself, do you really trust the people you're working with? Do you really know what's going on? And if you don't...find out."  
"And we're done!" Caesar beams, "Brilliant again, but you're always perfect. Such a great speaker. I could kiss you, but I don't want you getting ideas!" he points at me and winks, "You're feeling okay this time, no upsets?"  
"Yes," I nod, "I-I'm good. Just tired."  
"This whole situation is stressful for everyone." Caesar nods.  
Yes, and you get to go home to your comfy bed. I'm going to get hung from a wall in a few minutes.  
Some of what I said is probably right...the rebels were using us. We had no idea what was going on but still...how are they doing this? They at least gave up the pretense of having me learn a script this time. I do recall some words in my sleep...I think...and Finnick and I were talking, and maybe Beetee, or was it? was it Gale? Gale and I don't talk, but there's also been so many bits and pieces of things.  
A guard comes up. I try to stand but my arms don't want to push off and my left leg doesn't have enough stability. He hoists me to my feet and lets go cautiously, "Let's take you to med bay," he says.  
"That sounds like a very good idea." Caesar remarks, "I hope to do many more interviews with you, Peeta, my boy, wouldn't do for you to be ill."  
"Right..."  
Once we're outside the door the guard gives up on pretense, knocks me over and carries me the rest of the way which is fine...never thought I'd agree with a guard, but I just don't care any more.


	17. Hanging Around

There's a pack chasing me and she's at the lead. Laughter hits me like shards of glass, raking at my leg, pulling away flesh and muscle, nerves exposed burn with the air hitting them.   
There's no way I can run fast enough. I'm pulled towards her.   
"Katniss, stop! Let me go! This isn't..."   
Her face is twisted, fangs reaching for me, saliva dripping into my eyes. I punch her jaw twice and she reels back and then comes at me again hissing. I kick with my right leg and punch again. We roll over and over a clawing, punching mess, until we're separated and I try to run again, but I'm surrounded.   
The ground is slick and I'm falling.   
That laugh again.   
I can't. 

My whole body is tingling.   
My chest aches.   
Bright light.   
A face surrounded by curls.   
"Oh, good. You're awake. She would have been useless to us if you were dead. You're only alive until you stop being useful to us. You know that, right?"

My face is burning. No-no-all of me is burning. I can't get away from the burning. It's like I'm in an oven, everything is on fire. No matter where I grab or move or pull everything is fire. My fingers are falling apart as I try to claw my way out.   
I can't even scream my throat is too far gone.   
Then I can't even see because my eyes have popped and I'm scrabbling around in the dark with nubs of hands until I crumble away into nothing.

Screaming. Who was it?   
Was it me? No.   
It came from outside. Where am I? What's that movement? It's a train. I'm on a train...it's a rocking from side to side, that's the moving, and the scream came from across the carriage. I move quickly. There shouldn't be anyone on board that's dangerous but with the Capitol you never know.   
She's up in bed, hugging her knees, wrapped in a sort of blanket coccoon.   
"Katniss?"   
"Stupid. Just a stupid nightmare. I'm sorry. Go back to bed." It's muffled.   
"I wasn't asleep."   
She looks over at me, teary-eyed, "Then...would you stay with me? I'm an asshole for asking, I know."   
"It's fine. I will."   
She moves over on the bed, but winds up in a cover-person-mess of a knot which sends me laughing and makes her frustrated and she winds up thudding on to the floor, and emerging a moment later, while I'm laughing, bent over in the door frame.   
Haymitch walks by, puts up his hands one holding a bottle, the other some sort of meat on a stick and mumbles something food in his mouth about not wanting to know and not seeing anything. I step fully into the room and close the door.   
"Do you need a hand?" I ask Katniss as she's stopped moving, buried somewhere in the tangle of sheets.   
"NO." she mutters, "I did not beat the Hunger Games and survive half this stupid tour to be defeated by sheets."   
Kneeling is still sometimes awkward but I manage it without too much trouble, "Are you sure? I think I can--"   
"Ah-ha!" She cries out, "Victory!" and I'm stabbed in the eye.

I jerk my head back trying to scrabble at my face but I can't my arms won't move that far. I'm attached to the wall, trying to move pulls at my shoulders and I feel as though I'm going to snap in two.   
My hands pop and crackle as they move, all my joints are stiff. But there's nothing in my eye. There's no one in the room. It's just me and the echoes of my shouting. I look around again to be sure. No. No. It's just me. It's just me. It's just me.   
"Blondie?"   
It's not just me.   
"Blondie, how we doing in there?"   
Johanna. Johanna is in the other cell. The cell behind me. We're in cells in The Capitol. We're in cells in The Capitol. The Capitol is the enemy. Johanna and I are prisoners of the Capitol. We're prisoners.   
"Peeta. Talk to me."   
"Johanna."   
"Yes. That's me. How are you doing in there?"  
"I'm alive."   
"Some times that's all we've got to go with."   
"Yeah...what's been going on with you?"   
"Oh, you know, just...hanging around..." she gives a faint laugh, "I--I'm super clean...I...I guess I've got that going for me."  
"What-what have they been doing?"   
"Nothing much."   
"I may be all jumbled, but I could swear you said something a few..." it can't be hours? days? weeks?, "a while ago about being real with each other."   
There's a heavy sigh, "Showers from hell. They've..." she sighs again, longer this time, "They've added electricity, but I'm holding out."   
"Good." More than I can say for me.  
"Blondie?" Johanna asks.   
"Yeah?"  
There's a long pause.   
"If my counting's right they'll be coming back for me soon."   
"If you kill them and break out--"  
Her voice is very small then, "Talk to me when things are done?"  
I have no idea how to count any passage of time in here. I don't want to break a promise, "If I'm here."   
"It'll have to do."   
Neither of us say anything for a while.   
"Where do they take you?" she asks.   
"Some times I talk to Caesar. Some times...some times I don't know...medical, but then I...I don't know."  
"Caesar? Why would you?"  
Fortunately I'm spared from having to keep that real because unfortunately for her people show up to question her again.


	18. Purple & Blue & Me & You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lethate is not a character in the books, as many of you probably know, but I figured there have to be people doing the things. I debated for a while about what to call him and seeing that Suzanne Collins chooses names a lot of time from old traditions and things I took the name from this Lethe, the river of forgetfulness + Atë, goddess of ruin, it seemed appropriate given what he's doing.

I was born in District 12.  
I worked in a baker's shop.  
I survived two Hunger Games.  
My name is Peeta Mellark.  
I was born in District 12. 

-+-+-+-

Two guards have come in and are unhooking me. I'm so done with this.  
"No, let me go! I said-I said I'd be here!"  
"Feisty today." They sound surprised.  
I can't last long with it. I'm winded quickly and pissed with myself especially because they find it amusing as I try to push off he hits me across the face and I feel that frequent, familiar taste of blood in my mouth.  
"Shit," one says.  
"No, there's no broadcast. It's just medical."  
There's palpable relief on the other's part as he hefts me over his shoulder the way I used to haul bags of flour and we go down the corridor, the swaying motion lulls me out and I'm not aware of much until I'm dropped roughly onto a cot. A bar goes across my middle and there are clamps around my upper thighs and around my right leg, and then my arms are once more chained above me. The cot is rotated so that I'm elevated, almost vertical. If I wasn't strapped every which way, and still without my replacement leg I could step off and walk.  
Mr. Purple and Blue is there in the back of the room I can make him out despite the shadows because of the sharp contrast with the clothes of President Snow. This can only mean wonderful things for me, I swallow out of nerves, but it sparks a coughing fit. Snow looks over, and then points at me. A medical technician comes over and checks me over, can't have me choking to death before they're done with me, I suppose.  
Snow takes a few steps closer to me, "You've given such passionate speeches for us," he says, "It's a shame they don't seem to be helping. Is it possible you're not truly giving it your all?"  
If you can't say anything nice. Therefore I feel it's best to remain silent.  
"Hm," Snow says, "You're normally such a wordsmith." He puts a hand on my chin and carefully pries my mouth open, "No. The tongue is still there. Good. I would hate to have to order someone else's execution today. I fear running out of useful people." He tuts.  
"Things are ready," Mr. Purple and Blue says. Though today he's wearing mostly green--that's going to be confusing.  
"Very well, Mr. Lethate," Snow says, "I'll leave you too it. I expect a full report."  
"Of course." He nods to one of the technicians, who approaches with a syringe. They hook one of my arms up to a bag of fluids, which makes my hand cold and that spreads up my arm. The other arm is jabbed roughly by Purple and Blue--wearing green--Lethate, and there's that horrific burning again. I want to scrape and pull but the other arm is just as badly positioned.  
"Let's see what you see this time," the light around his head spreads out as he speaks.  
"How long do the raise duels last?" Snow's voice melts out of the door frame, "Eye prom ice dome point am door their four din hard you thin canape pan?"  
I'm falling backwards.  
Black smoke chokes me.


	19. Katniss' Claws

"What was the plan for District 7?" the shining lamp stand asks. It bends and curves and I have a hard time following it's movement. I want to point at it but my hand doesn't move at first, and then it does like dough mid prep when you're making snakes to braid together.   
Braids are pretty.   
Katniss braids her hair.   
"District 7?" there's a face in my noodle arm. That's not right.   
Johanna is from District 7. Unzipping. There was unzipping. Haymitch laughing. Katniss upset in the elevator. We were high up. Too high.   
I'm falling forward, stumbling. The riverbank coming up towards me, or am I coming down to it? Either way it's a jumbling mess, tearing at the already open wound on my leg. I stop for a moment taking that in. My leg. My leg is there. My real leg. Flesh. Blood. Blood everywhere. I'm probably leaving a...no, I fell down leaves and mud, that's probably way more of a trail. If he was going to follow and finish me off he would have already, but no...this has already...hasn't it?   
"Let's get you cleaned off," Katniss is in the river, washing the blood from Wiress' body.   
Johanna is cursing up a storm behind me on the bank, "I found her for you!"   
I need to clean my wound too. It'll get infected. I'll lose the leg. I'll lose it.   
"Then you fix her!" Katniss shoves Wiress towards Johanna, "I need to tend to Peeta," she waves to me from the water as Wiress spins in circles, "Tick tock, tick tock!"   
"Screw you and your tick tock," Johanna mutters, "Drown for all I care. I got her here, whatever."   
Other people should be here. Shouldn't there be...sand??   
"What...happened...with...District...7...?" Wiress asks, with Beetee's voice as Katniss wades to the edge of the river, complaining that I've not come far enough towards her, "Why...would...they...burn...everything?" the sun on the river is far too bright.   
"What are you talking about?" I ask Wiress, "Nothing's on fire here any more. Just the tidal--" No, this is the forest. There was fire in the forest, Katniss told me. The Girl on Fire caught fire.   
Sharp pain in my leg, makes me turn, complaining loudly, "What are you?"   
Katniss has jabbed her fingers into the wound, "It's deep."   
"Of course it's deep. It was a sword. Cato...but Brutus was in the arena with Wiress and Johanna."   
"What do you mean?" she asks, "You're not making any sense."   
"Did you give rites to Seeder or Rue?"   
Katniss shakes her head, "Give rites? Don't be ridiculous. Why would I give rites? Who has time for that? People are killing each other in here. Now come on. We need to get a move on before monkeys or dogs or something come for us."   
"Or blood rain?"   
"Blood rain? What blood rain?"   
"The blood rain that Wiress and Johanna just came through..." I turn. There's no one else with us. We're in a cave. It's just the two of us.   
She crawls towards me, "Peeta, you're not making sense. You've lost too much blood. You need to rest...and I can go to the Cornucopia."  
"Please don't go to the Cornucopia." I pause, "but you're going to. You're going to drug me and go anyway."   
"I don't..." she sits back on her legs, "We can both win, do you really want to die from blood poisoning?"   
She's right. That doesn't make sense.   
"Everyone else is going to the Cornucopia though. Clove. Cato. Thresh...they're the only ones alive at this point...no Foxface hasn't eaten nightlock yet. She's still here."   
"What are you?" she puts her hand to my face, "You're burning up, but if you're burning up and turning psychic who am I to argue. I'm glad you know about nightlock though. That stuff is very, very dangerous. You don't need to eat that and die. Though it is fairly quick."   
"That's something."   
"Peeta," she says, "You do need to tell me about District 7 though."   
"I don't...what am I supposed to know about District 7? We're in the middle of the arena."   
"Well, if you're psychic now. You can tell what their plans are. Why they're going to blow up a bunch of Peacekeepers...what they're going to try and do after that. Who they're working with."   
"Now, you're not making sense, honey.";  
"Maybe we'll just not bother about the medicine." She sticks her fingers into the hole in my leg, pain explodes behind my eyes, "Maybe you can just tell me now. Maybe you can tell me who you were working with. Who we're working with. Pretend I have amnesia. Clarify things for me."   
"What are you?"  
She gnashes her teeth at me. Long sharp fangs, "Didn't you ever wonder why I was gone so long? You were hiding out with your friends from 1 & 2 and I made some new friends as well." I feel something crack inside my leg. I thought it was painful before but that's nothing compared to know, and it rips and she pulls hard, more tearing and I realize once she pulls broken bone out in her now clawed hand that tearing was muscle and flesh, "Snow says hello!" she cackles as she stabs the sharp end of the bone into my stomach.

She's dragging me by my right leg. I'm not sure where I can't see properly other than flickering of light. My eyes are swelling shut. My body aches, bruises. Though the ground is strangely smooth and cool. My chest aches and I want to cough and clear what feels like phlegm but I'm afraid to. I feel I might explode in blood.   
I think I make out her looking back here as though I might have escaped somehow when her claws are digging into my leg where she's holding me and my left leg is dangling at an odd angle given there's bone missing from the middle part and there's just flesh and a few strands of muscle holding my ankle and foot on to the upper part.   
I think I have a concussion.   
We stop quickly and I'm spun around. My head hits against something hard, and there's a slow shoooshing sound. We move again, brightness becomes darkness, sweaty, fetid darkness, full of other human smells, urine, feces, blood.   
She pulls me towards the wall, through a damp patch on the floor and I'm fastened there, arms spread apart above my head.   
"Wait here, sweetie. Someone will be here again soon." She puts a hand to my face. It's cool, "Hm. You're kind of warm."   
There's an odd noise above me and then a jet of cold water hits me from above. It pulses on and off several times before I'm left alone, shivering in the dark.


	20. Noodle Arms?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a note that I have to give my 'nii-chan (Ryxl) credit for the Johanna line at the end of this chapter. We were talking back and forth about dear President Snow and she said something to the general gist of the line and it just struck me as so very Johanna I had to have Johanna say it. Thank you 'nii-chan.
> 
> Also apologies that it's such slow going on the story recently...it's trickier to write with Peeta's current state of mind...a bit draining.

My name is Peeta  
I come from District 12.  
I am a prisoner.  
My name is Peeta.  
Katniss. Katniss is.  
I don't know.  
Johanna is next door 

-+-+-+-

It's not right. It can't be right.  
Katniss wouldn't...she wouldn't...it doesn't make sense.  
It doesn't make sense.  
It doesn't.  
We survived the games together. She couldn't have stabbed me in the eye. My eye works; but they fixed her ear. Maybe they fixed my eye. They fixed my leg; but I don't have my leg now. Where is my leg?  
I can't...  
I only survived the games because of her...didn't I?  
She...has claws and teeth...she tried to eat me.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
She risked dying for me.  
More than once.  
She stabbed me.  
No.  
She wouldn't.  
She couldn't.  
"Peeta?" Johanna's voice sounds strange, "Katniss doesn't have claws. She has never tried to stab or eat you. Last time I saw you, you had both your eyes, okay? Peeta?"  
"Johanna?"  
"Yeah. That's me. No one here but us freaks." She gives a slight laugh, "You promised to talk to me, remember? Where were you asshole?"  
"My arm was a noodle." That was not a good thing to say.  
"Oh, lovely." She says, "Why don't we try that again?"  
My arm was...no it only looked like a noodle. My arm was NOT a noodle. My arm was not a noodle. There was no noodle. There was no bread. There was no bread. I can bake bread. itwassobright. There was a--a man. There was Snow. There was Snow.  
"Peeta?" she's tense.  
"Snow. I saw Snow."  
"You saw--what was he doing? What did he want?"  
Pie? No...that can't--that can't be right--what is wrong with me? That creepy smile. I wonder if people find it reassuring...bet the avoxes didn't, probably wasn't there for all those thought--thought they'd cut my tongue out.  
"Peeta!"  
"Johanna?"  
"Yes! What did Snow--?" She makes a weird noise, "Shit-fuck!" There's a banging, "Fucking shit fuck."  
My head hurts. My stomach hurts. Itching all over. Heaving. Nothing in me. Nothing really, spittle and cold. Shivering. She gave me a cold shower. No. No, she didn't. She's not even here. Get it together. Get. It. Together.  
"I--I don't remember what he wanted."  
"That's okay," Johanna's voice is soft again, and sounds watery, "We'll just. We'll just rest. That's probably best, and when we get out of here we can stab him with love. Better yet, with an icicle. He can die of irony poisoning."


	21. Miles to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the Mellark boys names from Greek, I spelled them in a way that made them more butchered phoenetic (based on the way Google translate pronounces) the way Peeta is as you'll see in this. With apologies to actual Greek people, but it was something that struck me about Peeta/Pita, the other day when I was thinking about things.  
> Greek: πίτα, ψωμί, ζύμη, literal: pita, pso̱mí , zými̱ , english: pie, bread, dough.  
> 

I must sleep because I jerk awake. My head is pounding and my eyes—I'm glad the room is dark. I remember trying to talk to Johanna but not being able to answer her. I don't hear her. I call for her, my voice is thick and hoarse and it's hard to operate around my tongue which feels thick in my mouth but there's no answer. Maybe she's asleep too. Hopefully. Hopefully she's asleep—more hopefully she's breaking her way out of here, but best of the not so great scenarios, she's asleep and not been dragged off to some other room to be injected with things that make you see noodle arms, and people ripping bones out of your body because that. Didn't. Happen. It. Didn't.  
I can feel it though—more strongly than I remember Cato slicing my leg open in the first place.  
My throat burns and my chest aches. I must have been trying to throw up, but there's nothing in my stomach.  
It's hard not to drift and I don't want to but there's nothing else going on and trying to keep myself on track by listing things sends my thoughts off in other directions. I'm from District 12. District 12 mines coal. Katniss' father was a coal miner. Her mother was from the merchant district. We went to school together. Katniss and I, not her mother and I. We were drawn into the games. That...sucked. That is not a good line of thinking to be going on. Better things. Better things. When she wasn't embarrassed to let me sketch her, that day we had in the roof garden. That was almost perfect. Could almost forget the pending death and doom of 75.  
Screaming.  
I feel guilty for how grateful I am to hear her scream—but it means she's still alive and angry. I can hear a guard or someone else shouting back and forth with her this time. It seems they're losing patience. After I don't know how long but during the time I am brought some punches and a small amount of water poured directly into my mouth rather than all over me, the shouting and screaming from the other cell stops with a final, “and the rest of your family too!” from Johanna.  
“Do I want to know?” I ask her. My voice is still scratchy but my tongue at least feels like it fits in my mouth now.  
“Probably not,” she says.  
“Keep it real was your rule.”  
“You sound less bat shit.” There's a pause, “Worse than Wiress at the beach, Twelve, and Batshit is a terrible nickname doesn't really go with coal. I could probably make it work though, I mean it does burn...”  
I lean my head back. The muscles in my bone and neck pop and crackle like wood on a fire, “Pretty sure they drugged me,” I point out.  
“You're getting drugs too?” she snorts, “They let you keep your hair. They've giving you drugs. Well, you two always were the favorites.”  
I have to laugh, and then I stop, “I'm sorry. It's not funny.”  
“It's a little bit funny,” she says, “and what else have we got going on in here?” the last part she yells angrily. I wonder if she's glaring at the ceiling like she did when she pointed out to Snow he couldn't throw everyone in the arena.  
“It's prison.”  
“It is?” she snorts, “and here I was all dressed up for a ball.”  
I can't say anything. I can feel the need to cough rising in my chest.  
“You're losing your sense of humor, Blondie. There's no hope left.” 

In my sleep there are two of her.  
I'm pushed and pulled, clawed and cajoled.  
I hear her calling my name, desperate to find me, worried.  
I hear her calling for me like a cat who wants to toy with it's food.  
It's almost a relief when my mother slams my head into the bread oven. 

I wake up coughing hard. My chest aches—my whole body aches, but my chest, the most and my head throbs. There are colored spots dancing about the room as I try to look around.  
I don't hear Johanna, but I can't make my voice work to ask if she's there, either, all that comes out is a croaking squeak. There's no way she would hear that. Some kind of sickness, obviously. What are they going to do about that? 

I'm being dragged again, coughs rattle in my chest. I can...hear...the guards talking to each other, lights keep flickering and it feels warmer than normal, maybe that's me. 

Bright, and the strap bed again. It's hard to breathe. Purple and—no, Lethate, and another.  
“I see,” he says, “Well, antibiotics, if we put a strong dose in alongside neither integrity will be damaged and, hm, dextromethorphan has some sedative properties combined with the two and some dissociative properties might actually be helpful to the whole process. We can get everything cleared up or at least locked down before he goes.”  
“Goes?” I manage to croak out.  
“Throat spray,” they both say, and there's the itching starting again and I feel myself melting into the floor. 

I'm with my father and my brothers we're taking turns pushing the cart that we're gathering fire wood in. Jeemi is complaining that we can't just use the coal that we mine.  
“The Capitol needs the coal,” Our father says.  
“Plus the bread would taste nasty, stupid,” my other brother points out.  
Father tells him off. He is young. He doesn't know things yet. We don't keep the coal for the same reason we don't keep the bread or the cakes or the pastries. It's for other people.  
I feel the wolves coming, and the keepers are there at the rescue white metal and guns as we hide behind the cart. The guide us back safe to the bakery, and my father gives them product from the shop as a thank you. My mother scolds the lot of us. They argue into the night pans and things banging and clattering around. We cluster in one room and Shohmi sings off key over the noise while Jeemi cries and I hug him too numb to do much else. Shohmi tries to get us to join in with him on the song but neither of us will, frustrated he begins banging out the beat on the wall and the bed until Mom comes stomping into the room screaming at us instead.  
A while later we are all sore and shivering under blankets trying to sleep. No one dares make a sound. 

There is someone in school who sings better than Shohmi.  
Her name is gone now.  
I think I gave her food once and was beaten.  
But I've been beaten for many things. 

“We have to get to know each other—we're going to be on this ride forever. That's what he said. At least we can be civil. It'll make things easier.”  
“What's the point?”  
Things rock from side to side, train—it's supposed to be smooth; but there's screeching, everything rough and tumble, end over end and people coming in, storming the train. Have to defend. Have to stay safe. One after another, block, disarm, defend, destroy, defend, destroy, destroy.  
Destroy.  
Destroy.


	22. A Rose in the Parlor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elina is the name of a type of white rose.

My name is Peeta...Mellark.  
I am from District 12.  
I am a...guest of the Capitol.  
I am a guest of President Snow. 

I can feel the warmth of the soup from where I'm sitting. My hand shakes a little when picking up the spoon but if I don't fill it all the way I can sip without spilling anything. The President sits across from me, there are four seats between us at opposite ends of the table. He smiles watching me eat.  
“How are you feeling?” he asks, after a few more mouthfuls, and dabbing his face with a burgundy napkin, “Dr. Lethate says you were not doing so well.”  
“The soup is helping, thank you. It's very good.”  
“Yes, Avaline's tomato bisque is excellent,” he smiles, “Makes you feel like a new man.”  
Unsure, I nod.  
“We're going to be broadcasting in a few hours,” Snow continues, “These terror attacks must be met with a strong show after all--”  
A loud knocking at the door distracts both of us, and it persists for a moment and stops, and then a different knock. There's an exchange of looks between the President and one of the Avox servants who had been hesitating about going to the door. Then someone from outside pokes their nose around the door, “Forgive me, sir, but she's most insistent.”  
I can just make out a blonde head. She looks...familiar, but I can't quite.  
“One moment.” The President sets down his napkin on the table and goes to the door, “My dear,” I catch, “you're supposed to be elsewhere.”  
There's muffled talking and then, “but you promised!” comes through very clearly.  
Snow is coming back into the room, “This is business as I've said, and besides, he's not been well...”  
“It's always business. Last time too! I just want to meet him! I won't be long. I promise.”  
Snow glances back to the door and then over at me. I give him a reassuring smile that whatever is going on is okay.  
“Very well,” he says, “but only for a brief moment.” He opens the door more widely and ushers in a young girl.  
She has blonde hair in two buns around the side of her head and looks very pleased with herself. She's wearing a long white dress. Her face lights up, and then falls a moment and then lights up again and she runs towards me, chattering rapidly and I can't quite make out the words other than “happy” and “thrilled” and she mentions my name several times.  
“This is my granddaughter, Elina,” the President explains, “She has wanted to meet you for quite some time.”  
“So I gathered,” I manage from underneath the hug she has grappled me in so tightly that I'm almost pinned to the chair.  
“And grandfather promised and promised, but you've always been so busy.” She releases me and rolls her eyes.  
“I am sorry that it's taken so long,” I tell her, “because I'm most honored to meet you.”  
She beams and it lights up her whole face. I wonder where exactly she came from, “I'm so happy to meet you too. I wish I could have met Ka--”  
“Elina,” Snow says, sharply.  
She looks over to him confused and slightly hurt.  
“But I do!” she retorts, “but no I was too young to go to any of the parties,” she grumbles.  
“If you're going to act like this you can leave now, as it is you only have a few more minutes and then we must return to business.”  
“Okay,” she says, softly.  
“It's alright,” I tell her, “Maybe we can take a picture?”  
She calls one of the Avox over to do just that, which appeases her grandfather, as she's reviewing to make sure she approves the pictures someone else knocks on the door and Snow ushers him in and they stand on the other side of the room.  
“Grandfather's so annoying at times,” Elina says, now that he's preoccupied, “I thought he would understand.”  
“He has a lot on his mind.” I tell her.  
She huffs at that, “So must you. I would be devastated being apart. My love being held hostage by rebels and everything.”  
“Everything?”  
She hesitates looking towards her grandfather, but he's still talking so she's not going to get in trouble for bringing up whatever it was she was going to bring up before.  
“It's all set at your command,” the other man is saying.  
“Good,” Snow says, “She'll see him for one last time during the broadcast before she and the rest of the radicals in thirteen are decimated.”  
“Yes, sir. They'll be dead by morning.”  
“--be hurting Katniss.” Elina says. She looks at me but I haven't heard a word she's said.  
“I've tried and tried to help her,” I tell the young girl, “but they've either got her too confused or she doesn't care anymore.” I shake my head. Snow comes back over, “So I have to let her go. Whatever happens she's one of the rebels and they bring their fate upon themselves.”  
I feel Snow's hand on my shoulder, “You'll understand when you're older, Elina, my dear. Sometimes loving someone means setting them free. Now, say goodbye to Peeta. We don't want any more upset, do we?”  
“No, no,” I say, “I'm fine.”  
Elina hugs me, but she's trembling, “You'd be breaking her heart.” She whispers, and then with a glare at her grandfather she trounces for the door.  
“See that she's taken to three.” Snow tells someone at the door.  
“Yes, sir.”  
He turns back to me, “I'm sorry if she upset you.”  
“No, as I said, everything's fine. You were saying about the broadcast?”  
“Yes,” he says, “but still I think we should have you checked up by Dr. Lethate before we go on, just to be safe.”


	23. Live and in Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This uses information and in some cases quotes directly from chapter 9 of Mockingjay, and a few bits from the movie Mockingjay part 1 because certain ideas from that just couldn't leave my brain.

Finishing touches are being applied to make up and we're reviewing maps. There's been so much devastation and every once in a while the power still flickers and the prep teams are jittery about it. They're not used to such things. One of them smears foundation into the President's hair and there's a big fuss, while another is checking the make up on my wrists and adjusting my sleeves.

I'm starting to feel shaky but I'm sick of people asking me if I'm upset. I'll be fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine! I push the prep guy away as best I can. My leg is itching and I feel unstable walking.

“Are you--”

“If you ask me if I'm upset--” I round on the guard, “There's just a problem with the leg is all.”

“We can get a technician,” he looks around.

“There's no time,” someone else says, “We need to get on the air now.”

Snow had wanted me standing in front of the board nearby him, but I wind up sitting anyway, they are able to quickly rig something so that I'm level with it and propped so the foot doesn't hang in case it detaches which seems to be something they're concerned about. This idea concerns me too but nothing to be done now. The show must go on. Caesar must be so sorry that he's missing it.

Screens are live in front of us, scrolling through text. Snow is giving it one final approval given there are many different areas to cover.

Final approval given the President goes to his podium and the cameras whir around to focus on him. I see the Capitol insignia appear on the wall next to us and the anthem plays and then Snow is both next to me and watching me from the side.

“Greetings loyal citizens of Panem,” the President says, “We are grateful to each and every one of you watching and listening for your continued support in these trying times. We must continue to work together now more than ever. If you suspect anyone around you of having any connection with or harboring radicals it is your sworn duty as a citizen to report them to Peacekeepers as quickly as you can before more events like these occur--” he turns to me and images on the board by my head flicker on and the prompter changes.

I can feel my head pulsing and my leg is itching more and more, “Everyone,” I say as the woman by the prompter is frantically gesturing at it, “I've said before how important it is that we stop the violence, and that has never been more true. A cease fire is more urgent than ever before more people suffer in ways like those in District 7 who have lost so much to this destroyed dam. ” Destroy. Destroy, “or those here near the toxic waste spill from the tank cars of this train the rebel's have derailed. The area is a no-go zone so we have no casualty estimates. In District 11 more radicals have set a fire which has caused a granary to collapse, early estimates at least 50 have died and still more are injured.”

A blast of strange music interrupts everything.

“--coming to the tree, where the dead men called out for his love to flee,” I feel a skipping in my chest. There's a girl standing in rubble. That place is so familiar. I feel things sinking inside of me. She has a braid...the music. I know it too. Somewhere inside I'm weeping for a loss I don't understand.

The image is gone. The President is angry I feel it. The woman by the prompter slams her hands on it. My eyes don't want to focus. That building. That girl. _You'd be breaking her heart._

“In Dis—District 6,” she's shaking her head at me, “I'm sorry, no. In District 5, the rebels bombed a water purification--”

And there's a slight buzzing noise and a man with curly blonde hair is there, and a young black girl is hovering behind him. I can see her floating in my mind surrounded by flowers as he mentions the tragedy of Rue.

Then she's there again, the braided girl in the ruins, and that sweet voice, “if we met at midnight in the hanging tree.” She flickers on and off the screen in and out of the light, “the dead man called out for his love to flee,” _dead by morning_ and the blonde man and the black girl, and a dark haired boy. I think he and I have yelled at each other. So much destruction.

That was our home. I lived there and it's gone. I lived there.

She's standing where I lived.

“Strange things did happen here no stranger would it be,”

My brothers. We huddled together there hiding from my mother's anger.

There's a high pitched whine, and I clamp my hands over my ears as people are scrambling about, yelling at each other, placing blame. The President is pacing back and forth in front of his podium, anger rolls away from him and across to me.

“Mr. President we're go! We're go!” someone shouts.

_Dead. She'll see him for one last time during the broadcast._

“As you can see the rebels are attempting to disrupt the dissemination of information they find incriminating; but truth and justice will reign. Full broadcast will resume when security has been reinstated. Peeta--”

The President is talking to me. I turn to him.

“Given tonight's demonstration, do you have any parting words for Katniss Everdeen?”

Katniss—she's in danger, no, she's the enemy, I can't...“Katniss—how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts.” I'm running through the jungle trying desperately to reach her but the sky is fracturing around me. She'll be dead soon if I don't get to her, “And you in thirteen. Dead by morning!”

“End it!” I hear the president yelling.

“Decimated—they want to decimate y--” something heavy hits me in the face and I feel myself falling.

 

 


	24. name

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My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name--My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My--Mellark--name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. My name is Peeta. MynameisPeeta. 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	25. You Take the Hijack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and for your support during this project.  
> It's been a hard write in some places.  
> Hopefully next time I crawl inside Peeta's head he's in a happier place.

It's too bright.

Everything bubbles and blurs.

I can't move.

…

…

…

breathe

…

…

…

Destroying the arena.

I have to fight my way out.

I am choking.

I can't...

…

…

breathe...

…

…

Destroy...

...everything shatters.

My face hurts.

…

my arm snaps one way and the other.

I'm so thirsty.

I can't move.

It's dark.

The room is dark.

“Johanna?”

There's no one there.

This room is smaller.

I can almost reach the other side with my leg.

My face throbs.

I can taste blood.

Some one comes in.

Water is thrown on me.

I'm hit with the bucket.

…

…

breathe.

The lights flash on

and off

and on again

The get brighter and brighter

The sky shatters.

I'm covered in blood and my skin is blistering.

Running, falling, stumbling, crawling. Have to get further away. It'll stop hurting. Can't get away from your own skin. Somewhere up ahead, hopefully, the fog will be gone and there will be some rest. It can't go on forever. That would be a bad game. My leg is caught. A root? A hand? The fog is coming. The hand is full of blisters. It's owner screams, a gurgling sound, gray hair, twitching. Another hand pulling on my arm, dragging me forward. I manage to find a strong root on the ground, brace, pull myself to my feet, pull back from them. Sword. Block the sword.

_Destroy._

Why is there so much?

Everything is red as I stab Chaff's blade into Brutus' again and again there's so much red, but it's not Brutus, it's Enobaria, it's Cato, it's Finnick, it's my mother, it's the girl with the braid.

It's Katniss.

No.

I can't. I can't. I can't.

I'm hanging from the wall.

Everything is red.

_Are you coming to the tree?_

My chest is burning.

His face is close to my face.

“We still have a long way to go. You can't sleep yet.”

I feel I should spit at him so I do.

Or try.

There is no spit.

His face cracks a smile.

He fiddles with something.

There's that burn again.

Burning through my chest.

It's going to go right through me until I'm ash on the floor.

But the arena is full again. Brutus trying to kill me. I remember stabbing him, stabbing Enobaria, no, no the girl with the braid.

Katniss.

There is so much blood already.

I can't.

I can't.

She hits me in the face. Goes for my throat but I grab her wrist and push her back from me. She stumbles backwards, but comes back at me with a blade and it's Brutus again and this happened. I remember the red rage.

I shouldn't be in a tunnel. I was just—

It's dark, metal, a metal place, sirens, loud, so much noise. I can't breathe, dust, coal, everything is fire and coal, and she's there, cackling.

You can't trust her.

I remember the claws. The fire. The broken bones.

She'll be the death of us all.

She's walking through rubble, stepping on burnt skulls.

Crush.

Crush.

Destroy.

The Girl on Fire.

I can't.

I can't breathe.

I'm scrabbling at my neck, trying to release whatever has hold on me.

It's tight and getting tighter.

Slick and wet.

Everything begins to flicker, bubbles before my eyes, as I'm pulled backwards by the cords...or vines, whatever is around my throat, but I can't scream. I'm falling though, through glass that's breaking, falling onto the floor. She's looking down on me from above, worried that she kicked me out of bed. The train ride is too smooth for it to have been something there. I normally sleep better when we're together. We both do. She reaches to pull me up.

“Behave you two!” Haymitch from the doorway, “or keep the door closed if you're not going to!” He slides it shut.

She yells at him to not be an ass.

Everything breaks apart again.

Running.

Running.

Pain in my leg.

“Come back, lover boy!”

Buzzing. There's flying death all around. Stinging. Too close.

We need to leave.

We have to go. There are too many thought but I can see—I can see how to tear through, places to to bed, things to snap and twist, what to rip, and break and tear and soon it's just me and the debris and one clear path through the red and broken.

Again.

Again.

Again, until I don't stop when I notice that she is in the many and I don't care.  


	26. Epilogue

I can't keep letting it go like this.   
She keeps turning.   
She turns and changes and I run. I run and I let her catch me and tear me apart. Why do I do that? Why do I let her get me?   
It's too much. It's too much.   
I can't breathe.   
Why is it me that can't breathe?   
I pull at what's choking me. Pull it back. Break it off me. Push.   
Push. Push back. I'm strong. It's not her. It's something else.   
It's not her.   
It's not her.   
I can't let her get to me because it's not her.   
That's the trick. That's how she gets me. I think it's her but it's a trick. It's always a trick.   
Always.   
I'm stronger than this.  
Claws and doom hiding behind that smile and that laugh.   
She has everyone fooled but not me any more.   
Not any more.


End file.
